At his workshop, Sam was busy trying to piece together Lirael's broken Mirror.
"It's no use, Aunt," he explained. "The Mirror is made of Free Magic, but it is tempered an held in check by powerful Charter Marks, several in fact, that could only be made with multiple Master Marks. The spell is so complex it would take 6 months of hard study just to determine what marks are there!"
Lirael sighed.
"At least nothing else broke," she said.
Sam nodded in agreement, glanced at Nehima, Lirael's sword, turned back to his worktable. Suddenly he glanced up.
"Draw Nehima!" he said, a scared tone in his voice.
Lirael looked at him strangely, and then obeyed.
She gazed at her sword when she drew it, then looked at Sam oddly.
"Something is different about Nehima, Sam..." she implored.
Sam looked at the blade, his face pale.
"There is definitely something different. The marks I put on the blade to bind the Destroyer have been drained...of their power."
Lirael looked at the blade and realized that of the Charter Marks, only a few were shifting.
"You're right, Sam! But what..."
Then Lirael noticed a new mark on the blade. She inspected it closely, and the mark seemed to shine and burn, giving off heat like fire. Then she instantly knew.
"This is the work of the Master of the Gates," she whispered.
Sam was confused.
"Who? I know of no Master of the Gates. But you speak of him like he is an ill omen, or a Dead creature...is he?"
Lirael dropped the blade on the floor, her hands sketching Charter Marks into the air quickly as she spoke.
"He is the one who broke my Mirror, Sam. Before you came into my room, I was in Death, using the Mirror to see how to fix the water pipes. But the Mirror failed, and I saw a huge shadow form. It commanded me to leave Death and said its minions, the Dead, would destroy any Abhorsen who came into Death again. And now he has gone and destroyed Nehima too!"
Lirael made a final, bold, decisive motion in the air and a light blue bubble appeared around the sword. She sighed.
"That should keep the sword safe and the Free Magic in. It's the strongest protection I have, anyways," she said.
Sam gazed at the blade on the ground.
"I can make you a new blade, Aunt," he said, trying to cheer her up.
"I would appreciate that, Sam," she answered back.
But then she thought to herself, but it won't be the same.
Sabriel scanned the land over the edge of her blue and silver Paperwing. She whistled the Charter sound to lower the Paperwing, and landed on the extended platform that had appeared in front of her. She sighed. The Paperwing had served her for over two decades now, but the Charter Marks holding the craft together were wearing out, and soon she would have to obtain a new Paperwing from the Clayr. Hopping out of the craft, she looked up to take in the full view of the large house the landing platform extended out of. The Abhorsen's House. She had first come here while escaping Kerrigor and a Mordicant, a powerful Dead creature that had hunted her. Sabriel through the paths and to the front door of the house. She paused and reached into the Charter. The House itself was a Charter Stone, because so many Charter spells had been utilized in the building when the first Abhorsen discovered the inlet. Opening the door, she stepped inside and was blasted by the corrosive smell of Free Magic and the cold feeling of Death.
I know this story is a bit weird, but review, plz.